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Monday, October 22, 2012

Sleep has taken over and ruined my life. My patterns are nonexistent. If I need a nap, there's no waiting till later, there's no fighting it off. Coffee does nothing (And though I haven't given it up, I've reduced the amount I drink, so piling coffee into my system each day would be stupid).

Yesterday the Dude and I went out for brunch and grocery shopping. I was dead beat from this, despite sleeping in until noon. So around 4:00 I took a snooze, fell into a deep sleep and didn't move until after 6:00. So, not only did I literally sleep away my day, but I also guaranteed today was going to be significantly spent in bed due to the domino nature of big-ass naps. I got up at 1:30 p.m.

I'm not sure what to do about this. I have a job. I have gym classes. I can't be living this way, and yet here we are. Also, I think my body is lacking iron. As I typed that, the baby kicked like, "Eat some steak!"

But seriously, I think I'm having iron issues. I can't seem to keep up with my body's new needs. I should be eating steak. I'm occasionally dizzy and forgetful, which is a bad sign of iron deficiency.

I'm 20 weeks today, which means I'm halfway done cooking. Or something. I could have anywhere from 18 to 22 more weeks to go. I have occasional fits of HolycrapwhathaveIdone?! But more often I am just excited about meeting the kid who's been feeding off of my nutrients and then kicking me in thanks. When you think about that, a fetus is certainly rather rude. I guess we all are savage creatures, really, deep down. We definitely start out that way.

I mostly wonder what sort of a person I'm going to raise. The Dude and I are so incredibly similar in many ways: introverted, artistic, sensitive, quirky. He's more of a people pleaser than I am, and I have more willpower. He's got an addictive personality and I'm a scatterbrain. He's able to focus on things longer and has a good technical mind and I'm articulate and think ahead.

I take a lot after my mother. I look like her, certainly. She was a little quirky, herself, and also artistic. I think I am more of those things than she was. She was also introverted. She recharged by reading and playing Tetris. Our old Nintendo was set up in her room and I used to watch her play at level, like 99 or something zooming shapes into crevices to stressful music. And then she commandeered my Gameboy and kept draining the batteries to play Dr. Mario before bed. She was also allegedly terrible at math, something I strongly relate to.

But I'm like my father too, in a way. The Dude likes to tell me I'm my biggest fan, possibly because I love laughing at my own jokes, something my mom always told me I shouldn't do, perhaps because my father, also his own biggest fan, loves to laugh at his own jokes.

I suppose I'm not expecting an extroverted math prodigy with no sense of humour. I'd wonder where such a kid came from. But it could happen and it's fun to guess at the possibilities. And that's what gets me the most excited about motherhood. Not the cute clothes, not the sweet baby giggles, not even the love (though I'm really jazzed about the love, don't get me wrong). It's the discovery of who my child is going to be.

To think that right now a brain is developing that will contain who my child is, and it's happening inside of me, kind of blows my mind, even though it happens every day all over the planet. Making life truly is one of the most banal and commonplace miracles in the world. But this one is my miracle, damn it.